The Necromancer
by Aradiuth
Summary: The Sheriff finds the weapon he's been searching for to impress Prince John at last when necromancer and magician Sparrow visits Nottingham. But will Robin Hood convince her to be the Sheriff's worst fear rather than steadfast ally? Over Gisborne's body!
1. Chapter 1: That's Not A Name!

**THE NECROMANCER**

Full summary: Set after Marian's death and the return from the Holy Land.

The Sheriff finds the weapon he's been searching for to impress Prince John at last when necromancer and magician Sparrow visits Nottingham...and decides to stay! But will Robin Hood convince her to be the Sheriff's worst fear rather than steadfast ally? Not if Guy of Gisborne has anything to say about it.

Rated M for adult content.

CHAPTER 1: That's Not A Name

_Drip. Drip. Drip._ The rhythmic sound of the last droplets of the leaving rain finally served to wake the Necromancer. Jet black, uneven, soft hair framed a lightly tanned face. As she raised her head, the small ray of light penetrating the cave hit her eyes, making them flash bright blue.  
>"Good morning, Nottingham," murmured the woman with a small smile. "Rise and shine!"<br>Dusting herself off, she roused herself and, taking her belongings – namely her belt, her sword, and her many throwing knives – the Necromancer ducked out of the cave and into the light penetrating the tall trees.

Pursing her lips, she whistled lowly, and began to buckle on her sword and distribute the knives all over her body. _Boots_, she thought, slipping a couple there, _belt, hair_, as she swept her black hair out of her face.

Neighing quickly got her attention and she smiled as the stallion galloped obediently over. "Whoa, Alskaer. Whoa, boy. Come here." Rubbing up and down her loyal, strong horse's neck, she saddled him with quick and nimble hands and, once ready, mounted up and took the reins easily in her hands.

"To Nottingham," she whispered, and sent the horse galloping.

She was not to get far, though, before she had to stop. Instinct that had taken years to hone told her that she was not alone. Though her experienced eyes scouted from side to side, she saw no one. Alskaer, however, only confirmed her suspicions, stomping uneasily and tossing his head from side to side.

Without warning, the silence broken only by the sounds of natural wildlife was sliced by the whiz of an arrow. The Necromancer ducked low over her horse, but her reaction was uncalled for; the arrow buried itself amidst the leaves in between the stallion's legs, sending the horse surging forward.

Then, she was surrounded. A rather large, hairy man leapt out of the woods to grab her horse's reins and more men emerged. One of them held a curved bow with an arrow pointed at her, wearing a triumphantly smug grin.

The Necromancer drew herself up and looked down upon him with derision. Without waiting for him to speak, she said smoothly, "I don't want to get into this now. I don't know who you are or what you want, and I don't want to know. Let me on my way and I won't annihilate you."  
>The men laughed and the obvious leader – the one with the bow – chuckled appreciatively. "My name is Robin Hood," he announced. "There are poor people starving out there. We take from the rich to feed the poor. Tell us how much you have on you, milady, and we'll take a tenth. Lie, and we take it all."<p>

She laughed, the clear sound reverberating through the woods. "Oh, I see. You're common outlaws, thieves. I'm sorry to disappoint you. I have no money on my person, and if you were a bit smarter, you'd know that. For what kind of _lady_ travels through the woods on a war horse, alone?"

He nodded to her sword. "You know how to use that thing?"

"No, I just carry it around for exercise."

This response elicited more laughs, but the leader was serious this time. "What is your name, my lady?"

"Sparrow," she replied.

"I'm not being funny," one of the men circling her said, "but that's not a name."

"No, no more than 'Robin Hood' is," Sparrow agreed. "But that is what I call myself, and that is what I have come to be called."

"Why?" asked a shorter man who hovered near the leader.

"What do you mean, why?" Sparrow snapped. "What's yours?"

"Much," replied the man after a pause.

"Much," Sparrow repeated. "You're named after an adverb."

"What's in the pouch?" Robin Hood demanded, clearly not wanting to be diverted, as his comrade sputtered half a reply.

"Invaluable things," Sparrow answered, her left hand drifting to cover it protectively, "none of them so common as _money_."

"Let me see," he said, undaunted.

"No."  
>He tightened his grip on the bow, but the Necromancer was already looking for a way out. Almost unconsciously, her right hand twitched towards her left hip.<p>

"Go for it," the outlaw said lowly, "I dare you. You will be so full of arrows, you'll resemble a hedgehog before you reach the hilt."

Sparrow scoffed. "A hedgehog. Really?"

"Try me," Robin Hood said, expression hard.

"Fine." With that, Sparrow dug her heels into Alskaer's sides and sent the stallion leaping over the big man and galloping away along the road. The only thing she left the outlaws behind was her clear laughter.


	2. Chapter 2: The Possibilities!

CHAPTER 2: The Possibilities!

"What? Who? A woman? What need have I for another leper?" Sheriff Vaisey demanded as the two men strode quickly to the Great Hall.

"My lord," Guy of Gisborne, clad in his usual black, said lowly, "she says you may find use for her."

"You and women!" the Sheriff exclaimed. "You have a soft spot for them, Gisborne. We need to rid you of that, hm?"

"At least see her, my lord," Gisborne implored. "I think she —"

"You think, you think," the Sheriff snapped. "You incompetent fool, the less you think, the better!"

They burst through the doors and Sparrow turned, a small smile curving her lips. She leaned against the side of the table on which her freshly-slain cadaver was laid out.

"What's this?" the Sheriff asked, coming down the steps, with Gisborne on his heels. "You came here and demanded my presence to show me what I see every day? A dead body?"

Sparrow laughed. "Don't insult me, Sheriff Vaisey. I had this body brought so that I could show you why you may want to consider having me as an ally."

The Sheriff made his way around to the chair at the end of the hall and sat down impatiently. "Well, then, I'll humor you. You have five minutes to impress me. If by the end of that time you have failed, then I'll have you thrown out to hang around. On the gallows, that is."

Sparrow rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "Sir Guy of Gisborne," she called.

Surprised, Gisborne turned, raising his eyebrows.

"Do me a favor, will you? Make sure this person is dead."

Marching over to the body, Gisborne nodded obligingly, drawing his sword, and ran the corpse through with the steel.

Sparrow raised her eyebrows. "Not what I meant, but that works just as well." She wiggled her fingers. "Now, go away."

Instead of going away, however, Gisborne retreated silently to stand by his master.

Sparrow sighed. "At least send the guards away."

The Sheriff chuckled. "I am not in the custom of sending my guards away for anyone who asks, little lady."

"Oh, I'm sure Gisborne will be more than adequate for protecting you against little, female me," Sparrow sneered.

Scowling, Vasey nodded to the guards, who exited and close the doors behind them.  
>Sparrow bent over the body, letting the tips of her fingers lightly run across the skin. She closed her eyes, letting expression pass from her face. The body was already growing cold. <em>One<em>, Sparrow thought, imagining a heartbeat, _two...one, two...come on._ She drew upon her power and let it flow through the contact between her skin and the skin of the cadaver. The body began to heat with the warmth of blood starting to flow through the veins again, and the wounds began to stitch themselves healed, the skin drawing back together, the body repairing itself.

Finally, Sparrow was rewarded with a faint movement of the chest. Rise and fall, rise and fall.  
>"Gentlemen, I present to you a living, breathing, 'dead' body," Sparrow announced, turning around and outstretching her hands towards the dumbfounded men. "Come, see for yourself; it won't bite."<p>

That bit of reassurance seemed to do it for the Sheriff, who immediately shot out of his chair and scampered to the body. "Oooh," he moaned. "Oh, Gisborne! The possibilities! We'd never have to pay for more troops! No more reinforcements! Our men can't die! Oh, _Gisborne!_"

Gisborne, however, hung back, staring at the body wide-eyed as the young man who had been dead opened his eyes and sat up, obviously confused. His gaze shifted to Sparrow, who watched him wryly.

"Devil's work," he muttered.

Sparrow heard. "Don't be silly and superstitious, Gisborne," she said easily. "It's not the work of the Devil – don't give him the credit that belongs to me!"

"You heard her, Gisborne, shut it!" the Sheriff barked. "What's your name?"

Sparrow bowed deeply, wearing a wry smile that threatened to turn into a smirk, and said, "I am the Necromancer, and you may call me Sparrow."

"Sparrow?" Gisborne repeated in a hoarse voice, speaking despite himself. "Why?"

Sparrow sighed and waved his question away. "I am so tired of people interrogating me about my name," she said world-weariedly. "Just accept me for who I am!"

"Yes, shut up, Gisborne, for goodness' sake!" Sheriff Vasey barked, a gleeful smile lighting up his face. "Sparrow, Sparrow...you can have Lady Marian's old quarters. Gisborne, take her there. Oh, and um...kill this man."

Without hesitation, Gisborne ran the body through for the second time, ignoring the cries of the boy.

"Guards!" Vasey shouted. "Take this body away before it starts to stink!"

"This way," Gisborne said lowly to Sparrow, waving her forward.

Sparrow followed him silently, memorizing the twists and turns of the castle, taking note of any oddities, until he suddenly stopped, almost making her run into him.

"This – this will be your room," Gisborne said, still facing away from the Necromancer.

"Belonged to Lady Marian, did it?" Sparrow asked, correctly guessing at the nature of Gisborne's unease. "What happened to her?"

It took a few seconds for him to turn around. "She's dead. I – I killed her."

Sparrow chose to ignore the obvious pain in his voice as he admitted it. "Well, let's hope this doesn't become a tradition, you killing the residents of this room, or it will quickly become the most loathed place in Nottingham," she said, but her tone was gentle.

Gisborne's eyes searched her face for a few seconds before he began to turn away.

"Oh, Gisborne," she said, calling him back. "One more thing. I forgot to ask the Sheriff, but would you make sure my stallion is properly taken care of?"

A spark of something finally loosed the deadened expression Gisborne wore as he turned back. "Do you ride?"

"Quite often, and with much enjoyment," Sparrow said, nodding. "Do you?"

There was a pause as Gisborne slowly walked back until he stood directly in front of her. Raising an arm, he leaned against the door by his forearm. "I wouldn't ride out too much if I were you," he said softly, "at least not alone. Especially not in the forest. Outlaws."

"Much too dangerous for a woman," Sparrow finished, matching his tone and volume with a touch of drama. "I ran into them on my way here and, as you can see, I was just fine."

"Did they take anything?" Gisborne asked with a touch of intensity.

_Does he feel a responsibility for me?_ Sparrow thought, wondering about the sudden change in attitude. _He barely knows me_. "They wanted to, I can assure you. But I gave them the slip, shall we say."

"Did you get a name?" Gisborne asked, clearing his throat.

"Robin Hood," Sparrow stated indifferently. "Is he a recurring problem?"

"Quite," he said darkly.

Their eyes met and Sparrow felt a shudder run through her. The man's eyes ran deep, and all she saw in their unfathomable depths was pain and fear. Fear - he did not fear her, surely. No, Gisborne was haunted by the demons of the recent past.

Once locked in his ice blue stare, Sparrow couldn't look away. The heaviness of his eyelids and the light violet shadows told her that he barely slept, if at all. His entire being, his air, everything begged for release from his living hell.

Sparrow let her lips curl slightly. She had several ways of doing that. Her eyes now roamed over his high cheekbones, his prominent masculine jaw, the leather that she was certain masked a strong swordsman's muscles. She let her lips part, and she outlined the shape of his lips with her gaze.

Gisborne stood riveted, struck immobile by the power and sharpness and clarity of the Necromancer's eyes and gaze. This conversation, which he hadn't planned on having in the first place, had taken a surprising spin. The temperature suddenly seemed to change from cool and crisp to almost uncomfortably warm. Racked by a desire to quench his thirst, to finally have relief, he had no choice but to act on his urge.

Without warning, without even bothering to check if anyone was around, Gisborne gathered her in his strong, muscled arms and pressed his lips to hers passionately, almost possessively. Without waiting for any kind of consent, he let his tongue push her lips open and explore the inside of her mouth hungrily. It wasn't just that he wanted her; he _needed_ her, and he needed her _now_.

Without breaking the kiss, Gisborne backed her up so that her back was pressed flat against the wall. With his newly freed hands, he roamed her body with his touch, cupping her breasts as he pressed his hips against hers, eliciting a soft moan from the Necromancer.

Hearing that sound broke the spell. He pulled gently away, looking down at her speechlessly.  
>Sparrow smiled, meeting his gaze. "How do you feel?"<p>

After a hesitation, Gisborne admitted, "Better. Especially when I was kissing you, I forgot all about —" he broke off, eyes narrowing. "Hang on. How do you know I have problems?"

"Gisborne, anyone with half a brain can see that you're having problems," Sparrow remarked. "Go get some rest, if you can." With that, she entered her room and softly closed the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3: A Dangerous Game

CHAPTER 3: A Dangerous Game

"So, my lady, I hear tell of a powerful and important guest here in the castle."

Sparrow's sword was out before she recognized the voice, but she certainly recognized the scruffy outlaw who leaned against her door. "Robin Hood. An expert at sneaking into ladies' quarters, I see. Impressive."

"Put your sword away," he ordered softly. "I haven't come to fight you."

The Necromancer lowered the blade, but didn't return it to its sheath. "Forgive me if I'm suspicious of anyone who turns up in my room uncalled, especially an outlaw that I crossed earlier today."

Robin Hood laughed briefly and put his empty hands up. "See? A sign of peace. Can we talk?"

After a short hesitation, Sparrow sheathed her sword and held out her hand. "Let's start fresh. My name's Sparrow."

"And I'm Robin," he said, clasping her hand in a strong, warm grip. "Now, what's such a fine young lady doing in such a horrible place as this?"

"It's not so horrible," Sparrow argued, looking around her. The room wasn't large, but it looked fairly comfortable. "They even provided me with a writing desk, complete with paper and —"

"You know what I mean," Robin said insistently, but his eyes searched her face intently. "Or maybe you don't."

"Perhaps you'd better tell me what you mean, so that I'll know for sure," she replied testily, unused to being ignorant.

A smile played around Robin's lips. "Can I take you somewhere? There's something you should see before you sign any papers and make any binding agreements with the Sheriff."

Sparrow hesitated, suspicious. Finally she sighed. "Alright. But know this, outlaw." She launched herself into the air, spinning and twirling until she landed in a full fighting crouch and, one hand going to her boot and the other to her belt, released two throwing knives, burying both into the heart of the man on the tapestry. "There's more where that came from."

"Understood," Robin said, sounding just a touch breathless. "You play a dangerous game, Sparrow."

"Ha," she whispered under her breath, "wait till you know the rest." Aloud, she asked, "How did you get in here, anyway?"

"The window," Robin said carelessly. "Come on, two of my gang are waiting below."

"I don't care who's down there, I am not jumping out that window!" Sparrow exclaimed, not even needing to look out to know they were much higher up than she preferred for window-jumping.

"It's ok, there's a wagon." With those cryptic words, Robin wrapped his arm securely around Sparrow's waist and sent them both tumbling out of the window.

In a panic, Sparrow almost had the magic released to turn them - or at least herself - feather-light, but at the last moment she saw what Robin had meant: a wagon full to the brim with cushiony straw. Gently, she let the magic fade from her mind and body, for fear of giving herself away before it was necessary. It would do no good to let everyone know that the Necromancer was also a master of what most people would certainly call the "dark arts" or the "devil's work."

They landed safely in the straw, but their extravagant method of escape drew the attention of the guards.

"Robin Hood! Shoot him!"

"Not very well liked with the guards, are you?" Sparrow gasped as Robin pulled her out of the wagon.

"Time to disappear!" Robin called. To Sparrow, he said, shoving her towards a horse, "Mount up!"

Sparrow did as she was told, feeling disoriented as everyone started shouting at once and arrows flew through the air. Silently, she morphed a protective sphere to her body shape, skin-tight and intangible, only activated when dangerous projectiles came too close. It was a complicated spell, and by the time she was done, Robin had already mounted in front of her and was urging the horse forward into a gallop.

The Necromancer wrapped her arms around the outlaw's waist as he laughed, evidently thrilled with his escape as they clattered through the streets of Nottingham. "I hope you know," she said lowly in his ear, "that if anyone saw me and recognized me, and it comes back to haunt me later, I will kill you."

"Nobody saw you," Robin assured her exasperatedly. "I think they were a bit preoccupied with shooting me."

"Good." Sparrow looked over his shoulder to see the looming greenery before them. "The forest? Oh no, I can't possibly go there; Gisborne warned me about all the unsavory characters that made their living there."

"On good terms with Gisborne, are you?" Robin asked, and there was an underlying note of vengeance in his tone.

Sparrow thought about the kiss and had to hide the smile in her voice. "Considering I've only known the man for less than a day, I'm glad to say that I haven't made an enemy out of him yet."

"He's a monster," Robin stated darkly in a tone impossible to argue with.

* * *

><p>A half hour later, Sparrow found out why. Robin took her on a mini tour of Nottingham county. Locksley, Clun, Nettlestone...all were alike in the sense that all were afflicted with peasants starving, sick and hungry and thirsty, all unaided, abused by the guards.<p>

"This is the Sheriff's work, and Gisborne's," Robin told her in an undertone as he and his men distributed food, supplies, and money. "This is why we rob from the rich."

"Honestly, I had no idea things were so bad," Sparrow said quietly, but didn't otherwise acknowledge the fact that the same people she was likely to be allied with soon were responsible.

"I believe you," Robin said. "It's getting near supper; you don't want to be missed."

Sparrow made a face. "Not hungry."

Robin laughed and they began to make their way back to the castle in Nottingham.

"So what exactly do you do if you get into a tight spot?" Sparrow asked him. "I'm sure the guards aren't too happy with you spoiling the poor."

"No, and they're even less so when they're trying to escort an important rich person through the forest," Robin agreed. "We're outlaws; we fight."

"You must be pretty good to have lasted so long," Sparrow said cautiously. "I've been told you're a recurring problem."

"I may be the most wanted man in England right now," Robin said, clearly untroubled by the fact. "I'm a good shot."

Sparrow smiled. "You play a dangerous game, Robin Hood."

"What about you? I already know you're no sadist or power-hungry dictator, so why are you so important to the Sheriff and Gisborne?"

At this, Sparrow was silent until Robin slowed the horse enough so he could twist around and fix her with a stare.

"A secret?" he said softly. "Must be _very_ important."

Despite herself, Sparrow flushed. "You make it sound like we're children and I've kissed a guy behind the barn or something. _Secret_, honestly."

"That's what it's called when only a few people know something, particularly something important," Robin snapped. "Particularly something that could be dangerous."

Sparrow reached around him to get the reins, but Robin seized her hands, pulling the horse to a complete stop.

"Fine. Be like that, Hood," she said, sliding off and landing securely on her feet. "I'm walking, and if anyone asks, I was kidnapped. How will that help your image of the noble outlaw fighting for justice? Oh, yes, _noble_ Robin, kidnapping ladies to take them on wild trips through the forest and leaving them to _walk_ back!"

She didn't hear him dismount, but she certainly felt his hard grip as he caught hold of her forearm and swung her around to face him.

"Woman or not, you seem to be a danger to my people," Robin hissed, "and that is something that I care about deeply, more deeply than I care about my _image_."

"A danger to your people!" Sparrow huffed. "What reason have I given you to think such a preposterous thing? Do I _look_ like a danger?"

"The Sheriff obviously thinks you do," Robin pointed out, "and that's more than enough reason for me. Now, either you tell me why you're in Nottingham and what the Sheriff sees in you, or I really do kidnap you until I force it out of you."

"And if I tell you," Sparrow said carefully, "you'll just let me go, I suppose. No matter the content of my speech?"

"I can't promise that, you know I can't," Robin replied quietly. "But there's more of a chance that way than if you don't at all."

Sparrow gripped the hilt of her sword. "Not really."

Robin scoffed. "You can't fight your way out of this one, Sparrow. I fought in the war in the Holy Land. I can take a woman."

"Then I'll run."

"You really think I can't catch you?"

"Then we're back to where we started."

"So tell me."

"No!" With that, Sparrow whipped the long, narrow sword out of her sheath and slashed out.

Robin leaped out of the way just in time, but could have sworn the point took off a couple hairs. "Sparrow, don't do this."

But the distraction had given Sparrow the opening she needed. Before Robin fully recovered, she was already jumping onto the horse and grabbing hold of the reins, jolting the animal into motion.

"Now!" Robin shouted, and she didn't need to look or hear the others to know that she was in the middle of a dangerous ambush.

Instead of ducking, Sparrow jumped up out of the stirrups and landed in a precarious crouch in the saddle. As her sword was still out, she used it as a shield to protect most of her body, even as she compressed every muscle she could to minimize surface area exposed. Hood wouldn't get her without a fight.

But no matter her determination, she was outnumbered. It was her against five men and some blonde woman who, as far as Sparrow was concerned, was insignificant as an obstacle until she teamed with Robin for a takedown that, unfortunately, worked perfectly. Soon, she was lying on the ground with several arrows pointed at her, trying to catch her breath.

"Sword, please," Robin said, crouching down next to her.

Sparrow muttered a curse at him as she unhappily handed the expertly crafted weapon over.

Robin laughed shortly. "So," he said conversationally, "as we were saying."

"You wouldn't kill me," Sparrow said, banishing all anxiety from her voice.

"Why not?"

"Because if you do, Vaisey and Gisborne will never rest until they're in a position to eat your brains for breakfast," Sparrow said easily. "Hey, alliteration!"

"Why are you so important?" Robin asked in a wearied tone. "I am getting tired of asking you."

"Here's a thought: stop asking me!"

"Very funny," he said. "Right. Blindfold her. We're going to the camp."

"I'm not being funny," one man said, "but she's obviously dangerous."

"Is it wise, Robin?" asked a black man in a grey robe.

Robin stared at them. "She'll be _blindfolded_! And we took her sword."

_A dangerous gamble, idiot_, Sparrow thought gleefully, but held her tongue as a dirty rag was tied around her head, covering her eyes. _The vain materials of this world are useless against my senses. You want to know why the Sheriff needs me? So be it. You shall know._


	4. Chapter 4: A Mere Fraction of Influence

CHAPTER 4: A Mere Fraction of Influence

"Here it is," Robin said grandly, taking the fabric off of her head. "Home, sweet home."

"Nice woodwork, but I prefer the luxuries of a castle for myself," Sparrow said, eyes adjusting easily to the light. "I feel I owe you my thanks, Robin."

"Why's that?" he asked, grinning.

_I'll wipe that grin off of your stupid face in a second,_ Sparrow thought grimly, determined to make an impression and show them who they were really up against. "For taking me to your little hideout. I see it's quite elaborate, which means you don't move around often."

"It's invisible to anyone who doesn't know where it is," Much bragged over his shoulder as he set down his round shield.

"Well," Sparrow said, lips curved in an insincere smile as she leaned confidentially towards Robin, "now I know where it is. Now, I can show the Sheriff where it is, and you will be brought to justice."

"You were blindfolded," the black man said. "Who blindfolded her?"

"I did it properly!" the blonde girl insisted, instantly defensive. "I know how to blindfold people, there's no way she could have seen!"

"Stupid girl," Sparrow murmured, eyes locked on Robin. "What do you think the Sheriff is keeping me a secret for? I have powers you cannot imagine. I don't need my sight; it's a luxury only. Not only are all my senses extraordinarily keen, but I have a sixth sense, one that lets me _know_ what's around me. I can take the Sheriff's men straight to your doorstep."

"She's lying," the big man said.

"I'm not being funny, but...she can't do that. Can she?" the man beside Robin said.

Robin never took his own eyes off her. "Oh, I think she can," he said quietly.

The blonde woman drew a dagger and held it close to Sparrow. "Then we kill her!"

Sparrow concentrated on the blade of the knife until it was aglow with hot flame.

The woman dropped it, letting out an astonished cry. She immediately bent to pick it up again when it stopped glowing.

"Kate, leave it!" Robin snapped.

"A mere fraction of what I can do," Sparrow said. "Now, take me back to Nottingham."

At that moment, in the brief silence that followed the Necromancer's words, all of them heard the undeniable sounds of horses and the clattering of armor just outside.

"Sparrow!" The voice that called her name was deep and familiar and aggressive. "Hood!"

"Gisborne!" Kate hissed.

"Did you do this?" Robin asked quietly.

Sparrow, however, was just as astonished as the others. "No; he must have found my room deserted and put two and two together."

"Robin, we have to make a decision regarding her, now," the black man urged.

"Tuck's right," Much agreed, "what are we going to do?"

"Shh," Robin hissed.

"If you let me go now," Sparrow said, resting her hand on his forearm, "I will play innocent to Gisborne. I'll protect you."

"And he'll believe you?" Robin inquired incredulously.

"Yes," Sparrow said confidently. "Now, where's my sword? Ah, thank you, Much." She sheathed the weapon. "Is there a back door?"

Seconds later, Sparrow was standing at the top of the hill, looking down on a scouting party of about twenty men, with Gisborne circling on his black horse in the center.|

"Move out," Gisborne ordered roughly, signaling to his men. "She's not here."

"I think I'll be the judge of that!" Sparrow called. As Gisborne turned, she picked a large, flat piece of bark, kicked it so that it started to slide down the leafy hill, and then jumped on it and rode it down the side of the hill like a board until it shuddered to a halt.

"Impressive," Gisborne admitted as he dismounted. "What are you doing here?"

"I was taking a walk," Sparrow replied tartly. "Do I have to sign out and get the Sheriff's written permission to do that?"

"There was a skirmish in the courtyard," Gisborne said uncertainly. "Outlaws."

"Robin Hood?" Sparrow ventured.

"Yes."

"Well, I was long gone by that time, I assure you."

"That's quite a walk."

"Yes, I certainly do like my fresh air."

Gisborne shook his head, running a hand through his black hair. "I told you, the forest is a dangerous place."

Sparrow stepped closer to him so that they were inches apart and looked up at him through her eyelashes, letting her lips curve into a smile. "And I can take care of myself, Gisborne."

"Please," Gisborne said lowly. "I think we're going to be working together quite a bit, so we might as well be on first-name terms."

"As you wish," Sparrow said, pausing for emphasis, "Guy."

He smiled wryly at her. "Well, Sparrow, as it's getting dark, I must advise that we get back to the castle as quickly as possible."

"Indeed, if there are as many unsavory characters about as you claim," Sparrow teased.

"No matter," he said, helping her mount behind him. "I can protect you."

She felt a thrill go through her in response to his eagerness to be protective of her, but suddenly she remembered what he stood for: an oppressive system, daily manifestations of the death penalty for the smallest crime, favoring the privileged and driving the weak and needy into the ground, often literally.

"I don't believe you're all sweetness and sugar inside, Guy," she murmured as they started off. "You have a dark side, don't you?"

He chuckled. "It seems ludicrous that you haven't experienced it yet. Never mind - I expect you will see the real me, the authoritative me, tomorrow morning."

"What happens tomorrow morning?"

He turned around long enough to flash her a smirk. "Tax collecting."

"The real you," Sparrow mused, as though trying out the words for the first time. "I look forward to it."

"Like you said, not all sugar and sweetness," he warned. "Don't be disappointed."

"I'm sure I won't be," she said comfortably, resting her hands on his strong thighs suggestively. "I like a man who can push people around."

Gisborne's smug huff of amused acknowledgement was enough to confirm for her that she had him well in her grasp of influence. Now, the question was how to use it - and how far she would be willing to go to take advantage.


	5. Chapter 5: Dirty Business

CHAPTER 5: Dirty Business

"Ah," Sheriff Vaisey sighed, leaning back. "Much as I dislike the French, I must admit they make excellent wine. Wouldn't you say, Sparrow?"

"Indeed, Sheriff," Sparrow agreed amiably, cleaning her plate of any last crumbs or morsels of food.

"Now, ah, I realize we haven't talked about your pay yet, you've been very polite about that," the Sheriff said with a sizeable bit of apprehension. "I'm prepared to give you —"

Sparrow laughed and waved him quiet. "No, no, no. I do not work for money. I am an _artist_, not a common mercenary. I am to be respected and treasured, not bought and sold. You provide me with food, water, a roof over my head, and freedom in Nottingham county, give me authority and respect, prestige and position, and I will in return do everything within my plentiful powers to give you what _you_ want."

Vaisey raised his eyebrows. "Well, I admit I wasn't expecting this to be so easy. I give you a room and you give me dead people, is that how this works?"

Across from Sparrow, Gisborne smiled down at his plate.

"Wait, Sheriff. You haven't heard everything. For I am not _just_ a necromancer."

Gisborne looked up, surprised, and the Sheriff pulled an immensely confused expression.

Sparrow bit her lip to keep from laughing, but managed to keep her voice level as she continued, "I am a magician. Look, your plate is empty. But watch your bread crumbs grow into an entire slice."

Indeed, before the men's wide eyes, the crumbs grew in size and texture until the Sheriff's plate was covered in slices of bread, none of them identical.

"So you can produce bread out of crumbs," the Sheriff finally said with a patronizing grin. "Impressive."

Sparrow sighed and shook her head. "Very well. Name your test, Sheriff, and I will pass it."

"Ahh," Sheriff Vaisey drawled. "Guard!"

A single, black-armored guard came in.

"Close the door, you worthless imbecile!" the Sheriff said happily. To Sparrow, he ordered, "Kill him."

Sparrow smiled, extending her open hand towards the confused guard. Then, she clenched it into a tight fist, using the motion as a catalyst to send the magic into the guard's body, wrapping itself, vice-like, around the man's heart and squeezing it lethally. The guard fell to the ground, instantly dead before he hit the floor.

"Check him," Vaisey commanded Gisborne, who shakily stood from his seat and knelt beside the motionless guard.

"No pulse," Gisborne confirmed. "He's dead."

"Oops," the Sheriff uttered gleefully, "I forgot. I want him alive. Bring him back!"

Sparrow rolled her eyes but did as he asked, much to the delight of the Sheriff.

"You," Sheriff Vaisey said delightedly, "are a god-send!"

"Irony," Sparrow noted, "I like it."

The Sheriff laughed as the guard sat up, looking very confused. "Oh, Sparrow! Oh, Gisborne! We will be unstoppable!"

After the supper with the Sheriff and Gisborne, Sparrow took leave to retire to her room. Doing magic still tired her, since she didn't yet have the endurance her late mentor used to. She didn't get far, however, before she heard hurried footsteps pursuing her, and Gisborne vaulted around the corner.

"Ah, Sparrow," he said, "I hoped to catch you. May I walk you back to your room?"

"Certainly, Guy," she replied, and took the arm he offered her.

"What you did back there," he said, the volume of his voice plummeting, "was amazing."

"Well, thank you. Are you sure I'm not the spawn of Satan doing dark magic?"

"The spawn of Satan could never be so fair," he said smoothly, sounding very sincere.

They stopped in front of her door and she faced him. "And your own demons, Guy?"

He met her gaze. "Before you came, I thought there wasn't any need for me to die; I was already in hell. Every day, demons clawing at my brains. But no more."

Sparrow raised her eyebrows. It was highly unlikely that he had managed to fall in love with her that quickly. She had hardly been there a day. More likely was that somehow, by being in such close contact with her, he had managed to accidentally siphon off some healing power. His body must have recognized it and used it for all it was worth. The consequence was that he felt much closer to her now than he normally would.

"Sparrow," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers and staring into her eyes intensely, "you have given me release."

"Not yet," she breathed, and angled her head slightly.

As he leaned in, pushing her back slightly, Sparrow's hand caught on the handle of the door, and as a result they both tumbled into the room, swinging the door wide open until it smacked into something solid that uttered a sharp cry of pain.

"What the - Hood!" Gisborne roared, scrambling up and slamming the door shut, exposing Robin behind it, clutching his forehead in pain.

Gisborne grasped his sword, drawing it out of the sheath, and Robin, reacting to the sound, stumbled away just in time to avoid a slash that surely would have sliced him in half. The outlaw seemed to be beginning to collect himself as he ducked under a horizontal sweeping strike and kicked out, catching Gisborne in the center of his chest and sending the leather-clad man stumbling back.

Sparrow, pretending to be so in shock that she didn't know what she was doing, swept her hand across the table in the center, sending, among other things, a coil of rope to Robin's feet. With nimble fingers, Robin tied one end to his arrow and shot the arrow out of the window. Without further ado, the outlaw made his escape, swinging out of the window and beginning the climb down.

"No!" Gisborne roared, running forward.

"Guy, leave him!" Sparrow snapped. "He's not worth it."

Gisborne froze and Sparrow thought she had won, until he turned towards her with a carefully stoic expression. "You were with him," he said, and his eyes promised vengeance. "You were with Hood."

_Oh. Shit._ "Come on, Guy, don't be ridiculous," Sparrow said heatedly. Privately, she hoped her face and voice betrayed none of the panic threatening to rise up in her. _He doesn't know; he's just guessing. Make him believe that he's guessing wrong.  
><em>  
>But Gisborne was shaking his head, eyes narrowed dangerously. "What have you told him? What have you <em>showed <em>him? What state secrets have you disclosed -"

"State secrets!" Sparrow sputtered. "What state secrets? My secrets are my own, not the state's, and I am not more state property than are my secrets!"

"You will be condemned to death for this," Gisborne warned.

"For what? I haven't done anything!" Sparrow snapped. "I would never associate myself with such horrid low-lives as outlaws, particularly ones that smell as bad as Robin Hood, believe me!"

She had captured his attention. Gisborne hesitated, looking uncertain.

_Move! Make a move, now!_ Sparrow screamed in her mind. _But what? What do I say?_ Perhaps she didn't have to say anything. Lunging forward, Sparrow wrapped her arms around him and kissed him deeply.

The way Gisborne responded, the Necromancer knew there was no turning back. If she pulled away, he would immediately be reminded of his suspicions. She had to ride it out, waiting for him to stop first, and she had no idea how far he would go.

Gisborne shoved her away suddenly, so strongly that she stumbled into the wall. But Sparrow didn't even have time to worry that he might think she was manipulating him before his lips crushed her own again, and his strong arms held her immobile against the wall. A muscular leg wedged itself in between her own, pressing up against her core, and Sparrow's moan was lost in their passionate kiss. For a moment, she wondered whether she _was_ manipulating him, or if he was manipulating her.

Gisborne lightly bit down on Sparrow's lip, bringing her back to the present. She noticed that she was feeling lighter, and realized that he had gotten her belt undone, dropping it and the weapons on it to the floor. She had barely come to that realization when she suddenly felt his hand sliding down her toned stomach to caress the bundle of nerves above her opening, sending waves of sharp pleasure up her body.

Gisborne couldn't help but feel gratified as he let his agile fingers explore her that she was already slick, clearly neither innocent nor disliking what he was doing. He positioned his hand so that his thumb mercilessly worked her mound as he plunged two fingers inside of her, loving the feeling of her tight walls around him, warm and wet.

Sparrow couldn't control her sharp gasp as Gisborne discovered and exploited all of her weaknesses with almost alarming efficiency. The sensations were too intense and she felt on the brink of release, unsure if she was feeling pain or pleasure as a moan ripped from her throat and Gisborne increased his speed.

Partly out of her need for a respite and partly out of her desire for him, Sparrow reached out to cup the bulge in his pants, receiving a sharp intake of breath from Gisborne for her trouble. He, however, did not show any kind of mercy and continued to threaten to drive her over the edge. Therefore, Sparrow resolved to resort to more desperate measures.

Gisborne was determined to give Sparrow release, just as she had given him release from his demons, but her own movements distracted him from his purpose. She slipped a cool, slender hand into his pants and wrapped her fingers around his base, just barely skimming the surface of his testes, making him feel pleasure he hadn't felt for a long while.  
>Sharp knocking at the door made them both jump.<p>

"Milady!" someone called from the other side. "The Sheriff would like to speak to you immediately!"

"Ah, shit," Sparrow muttered, prompting an amused smirk from Gisborne. Louder, she called, "Let me get dressed, I'll come in a minute!"

They locked gazes and Sparrow had to muffle her laugh for fear of the guards hearing.

"You better get dressed, Sparrow," Gisborne said, eyebrows raised.

"Shut up, Guy," she hissed. "Ok, here's what we're going to do. You, hide somewhere and come out at least a minute after I leave. Count 60 seconds, at least. That way, it won't look suspicious."

"Until we see each other in the hall and we both start laughing, you mean," Gisborne pointed out with a wry smile.

"What?"

"Well, if the Sheriff wants to speak to you immediately, it's a safe bet he sent guards after me, too."

"You have delusions of your own importance," Sparrow teased.

"Milady!"

"Coming! Patience is a virtue, my friend," Sparrow said clearly over her shoulder. She buckled on her belt and tried to assume an expression of innocence.

Gisborne laughed quietly. "You look ridiculous." He took her shoulders and gently turned her around so that she faced away from him and brushed out her hair quickly. "It was too messed up," he said.

"Right. Now stay here for 60 seconds." With that, Sparrow pushed him behind the door where Robin had hidden, and opened it. "See, now we can go."

Hidden behind the door, Gisborne smirked and lightly touched his lips.


End file.
